Preludes to a Birthday Party

By Aeiu

Summary: Odd things are happening to the team. Could it have anything to do with the odd events at Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Sequel to ‘A Night with Freddy and his Friends’. Crossover with ‘Five nights at Freddy’s’.

Rating PG 13

Warning: Supernatural violence and general eeriness. Talk of murdering children and pedophilia. Helpful to read first story in series or have knowledge of the game ‘Five Nights at Freddy’s’

***TAT***TAT***

“I’m in Hell,” Face thought as he made his way through the dimly lit hallways. If the smell of cheap beer and rancid cheese was not bad enough, the squeals of hordes of little children told him that he needed to get out of here fast.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids but he found it difficult to deal with them in mass. He normally left such work to Murdock, who was a kid at heart, or BA, who was used to them from his work at the center. The problem was that he wasn’t sure how he had gotten here, why he was here or how to get out.

One odd thing was that though he could hear the children and the insipid music that told him he was in a family themed restaurant; he had yet to see any of them. The other odd thing was the sound of a single child crying somewhere.

He followed the sound of the tears to a small birthday room where he saw a small boy, probably no more than three, huddled in a corner weeping. His conscious would not let him leave such a pitiful figure alone so he went over to see if he could help.

“Hey buddy,” he said as he knelt by the small boy. “What’s wrong?”

The blonde boy looked up at him with strangely familiar eyes. At first he wasn’t sure if the boy would speak to him. The child seemed to be sizing him up and must have seen something that he liked because he started to speak.

“I hate it here!” the boy said. “I didn’t want to come here but they made me.”

“Who?”

“My daddy and…his friend. They said it was for my birthday and I would have fun but I’m not. I hate it!”

“Why do you hate it?”

“The bear,” the boy said as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“What bear?”

“Freddy. Daddy told me that he wasn’t real but I saw him staring at me. I think he wants to bite me.”

“So you’re hiding from Freddy?” The sound of that name caused a cold pit of fear to form in Face’s stomach.

“No,” the boy said shaking his head. “I’m hiding from daddy. He’s mad at me.”

“Why’s he mad at you?”

“He’s always mad at me; especially when he’s drinking that funny fruit juice. He and his friend wanted to take a picture of me with the bear but I didn’t want to. He tried to make me and a bit him. He hit me so I ran in here.”

“He hit you?”

The boy shook his head yes then cowered as a loud voice cut through the air.

“Richard! Where the fuck are you?”

“Shhh,” the boy said putting his finger to his lips. “That’s my daddy.”

Face looked up as an older man stumbled into the room. From across the room he could smell the stale alcohol coming from him. He stood up to intervene but it was as if the man couldn’t see him.

“What the hell are you doing in here!” the man shouted as he stomped into the room and grabbed the boy by the arm. “I hope you’re happy, you little shit! Mandy left and it’s all your fault!”

Face knew what was coming next but didn’t seem able to move as the man began to slap the boy across his face. He struggled to lift his arms as a wave of dizziness overcame him. He shook his head to clear it but when he opened his eyes, he discovered he was sitting in the back of a car. He looked over and saw the same man and the boy sitting in the front seat of the car. A small trickle of blood ran down the boy’s mouth as he trembled in the seat and the man continued to shout.

“I don’t know why the fuck I even try doing anything nice to you!” the man slurred as he tried to fit the key into the ignition. “You ruin everything! Your own mother didn’t want you!”

“I’m sorry daddy,” the boy cried.

“You’re always sorry but you keep being bad and make me hit you! Do you think I want to hit you?”

“No daddy,” the boy whimpered.

“I don’t but you make me!” The car lurched forward as the man slammed on the accelerator and then the brakes.

“You shouldn’t be driving,” Face whispered from the back seat. As bad as this was, he could feel that something worse was coming. “Please, just stop the car.”

“Shut the fuck up!” the man shouted at the boy, “or I’m going to give you something to cry about!”

The man turned his head to hit the boy again as his foot pressed on the accelerator.

“Daddy! Look out!” The boy screamed as the car plowed into another boy running across the street.

Face closed his head and turned away as he heard the dull thud of a small body being thrown by the car. The brakes squealed as the car stopped momentarily before the engine roared back to life and left the scene.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck,” the man mumbled as he finally drove the car into an alley and parked it.

“Daddy,” the boy said cautiously tugging at the man’s shirt. “I…I think you hurt that boy. We need to go back.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” the man shouted pulling his arm away and looking down at the boy. “This isn’t my fault! This is your fault!”

“My…my fault?”

“Damn right!” the man as he got out of the car and pulled the kid across the front seat and out the driver’s door.

Though he hadn’t moved, Face found himself standing by the two in the alley.

“You killed that boy!” the man accused as he punched the boy in the face. “If you were a good boy and hadn’t made me mad that boy wouldn’t be dead! No wonder your mother didn’t want you!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” the boy cried.

“Do you think it’s going to do that boy any good that you’re sorry!” the man as picked the boy up and started shaking him. “Do you know what they do to killers? They put them in the electric chair and fry them until their eyes pop out. That’s what they’ll do to you if you tell anyone what you did!”

The boy stared up in mute horror at his father.

“Do you understand?” the man screamed as he continued to shake the boy. “If you tell anyone, they’ll kill you!”

The boy remained silent as he shook his head to show he understood.

“God Damn bastard!” the man said as he threw the boy against the wall. He didn’t look as the child crumbled to the ground. “Your mother was right. You ruin everything. I fucking wish you’d never been born.”

Face knelt and ran his hand over the crying boy’s head. He didn’t have to look. He knew what was happening. The man continued to shout obscenities as he stumbled into the car and drove away. The boy’s mother had abandoned him and now his father had done the same thing.

“There’s a church nearby. They can help you there,” Face mumbled unsure of how he knew that but the boy no longer seemed to be able to hear him.

He didn’t know how long he sat trying to comfort the child but he could tell it was getting cold by the way the boy shivered.

“Son,” said a concerned and familiar voice behind him, “what’s wrong?”

Face stood and turned, wanting desperately to see the old priest again, but everything went black.

***TAT***TAT***

Face woke up with a lurch as he tried to catch his breath and his heart beat wildly. It had been one of those dreams again.

He knew the rest of the story. The boy wouldn’t tell the priest what had happened. The boy wouldn’t talk for the next several months and he would never tell anyone what had happened that day.

Face ran an anxious hand through his hair and wished that Hannibal wasn’t gone gathering information for their next case. He reached for the remote hoping there was something good on television. He knew he wasn’t going back to sleep tonight.

SIX DAYS TO THE PARTY!

Part Two

Jason Briggs took comfort in the four blank walls of solitary. Some people hated being locked in here but not him. The way he saw it, the walls were not there to hold him in but to protect him from…them.

They hated him, all of them; the other inmates, the guards, the warden even the clergy hated him. And why shouldn’t they? There was so much to hate him for.

The crime; four children, raped, sodomized, murdered and their bodies mutilated and stuffed into giant children’s toys. The mystery; evidence of a fifth child whose body was never found, his fate officially unknown. The horror; the madman, the only living witness to the crime who ripped out his own tongue rather than tell anyone why he had done it.

No wonder they hated him; if he had done half of that, he would hate himself too. But he hadn’t done it, none of it. His only crime was keeping others’ secrets. It wouldn’t have done any good to tell the truth. No one would believe him. Nobody would have believed the truth about Freddy Fazbear.

He flinched when the searchlight from the guard tower flashed into his room. It caused shadows and he hated shadows. Things liked to hide in the shadows, bad things, things that didn’t belong in this world.

He didn’t want to but his mind was taken back to that place.

It wasn’t fair. All he wanted to do was to make a few bucks on whatever he could strip from the abandoned restaurant. He should have left when he heard the strange sounds but he hadn’t, he went into the main room and turned on his flashlight.

Briggs swallowed the bile which rose in his throat as he remembered the terrible scene. The first thing he had seen was the child and the child’s killer; striped down to bare flesh lying at the feet of the obviously sated pervert. It wasn’t hard to guess why the child had been killed.

It might have been morally wrong but he wasn’t going to help. He was just going to leave. It really wasn’t any of his business. He didn’t want to bring the police’s attention on himself for a brat that was already dead.

He had already turned when he heard the unearthly scream of fury. Like Lot’s wife, he shouldn’t have looked back but he did.

This wasn’t his first time at that place. He had been there before when it was a place to take your child for their birthday. He had seen the robot band before; playing their recorded tunes and their recorded messages. He knew they weren’t a live.

He was sure of it. Right up to the moment, they turned their heads to him and smiled.

He jerked himself out of the memory. It did no good to remember it; it could only lead to madness.

A feeling of unease swept over him. It was suddenly too quiet. A place like this, even in solitary, there was always some sort of noise. But now it was so quiet that his heart sounded like a kettle drum. The searchlight appeared to be spinning faster causing an almost strobe effect across his room.

His eyes darted about. He couldn’t suppress the feeling that he was no longer alone. There was something in here with him.

He saw a dark mass crumbled on the floor in the corner. He was sure that it hadn’t been there before.

The mass began to stir; taking a familiar shape as it flowed upward getting taller and skinnier; legs, body, arms and face. It turned to him and smiled that smile.

He always knew that someday they would come back for him. He just hadn’t known that tonight was the night he would die.

“What do you do,” he wondered as he tried to will his eyes to close so he would have to see, “when you need to scream and you have no tongue?”

***TAT***TAT***

Hannibal nervously chewed on the end of his cigar. He didn’t know why but he had been on edge for the past couple of days.

They whole team had. And Face, he hadn’t been sleeping well. He had been having nightmares; waking up in a cold sweat claiming he couldn’t remember what they had been about or that he didn’t want to talk about them.

Hannibal’s brain told him that things would get better when they started this new job but his gut told him that something was coming; something bad.

“So did Cunningham check out?” he asked.

“He checked out,” Amy Allen answered as she referred to her notes. “Shawn Cunningham has lived and worked in the same area for the past decade. He doesn’t have a criminal record or any connection to the military that I can find.”

Hannibal was disappointed. His gut was screaming to turn the job down but he couldn’t come up with a single reason why and, damn it, he wasn’t the type of man to act on his fears.

“Okay, let’s set up a meeting,” he said.

“Good,” Amy said with a smile. “My boss has been asking when my next big scoop is coming.”

“Hm hm.” As Hannibal’s mind turned to the possible nuances of the upcoming mission, he tuned the pretty reporter out.

“You heard that Briggs died,” Amy piped in. She hadn’t really planned on saying anything but it always frustrated her when Hannibal mentally dismissed her.

“What?” Hannibal looked up. He couldn’t remember where he had heard that name before.

“Briggs. He’s the guy that killed those kids in that restaurant, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. Some of the other inmates must of gotten to him. They said he was pretty torn up when they found him.”

Hannibal shuddered as he remembered that horrible night; that night that he almost lost the kid to something he had never been able to explain.

It had been followed with long nights of nightmares for Face followed by a typical refusal to talk about it. This time they agreed with him. Some things are best left forgotten.

“Don’t tell the others,” Hannibal ordered, “particularly Face.”

Amy nodded showing she understood but she didn’t. She remembered the frantic telephone call from a panicked Murdock demanding any information she could get on the closed pizzeria. The little bits of data that she discovered had piqued her interest.

The next time she saw the team, she had asked them about it. Hannibal had hustled her to the side and told in no uncertain terms that she was never to mention the place again. She had assumed that it had something to do with Murdock and his many neuroses. But then BA followed by Murdock told her not to talk about the place to any of them and, especially, not to the team’s conman.

It was odd. Her reporter instinct told her to keep digging. She had tried to run down some leads but it seemed that either a person didn’t know anything about the place or didn’t want to talk about it. Even her police contact, a man who was willing to talk about anything, told her to leave it alone, told her there were some things you didn’t look too close at.

“Amy,” Hannibal said. “I appreciate all the leg work you do for us but that job was over a long time ago. We don’t need to hear anything about it. So I don’t want you sending me any more updates on the place.”

“Updates?” Amy asked confused.

“The new stories and police reports that you keep sending me on the missing people.”

What missing people? I haven’t been sending you anything.”

Hannibal suddenly felt very cold. He had started getting them shortly after they had pulled Face out of that cursed place; five people in the past months, the reports always sent to him wherever he was living, always with no return address telling him about another missing person in the area of the pizzeria, always called in by anonymous about people that were never seen again.

He knew why he had never asked Amy about the updates. Because, deep down, he always knew that it wasn’t her sending them and he never wanted to think about who was sending than and why.

FIVE DAYS TILL THE PARTY!

The room was newer but, Face still recognized it; just like he recognized the boy in the corner. The boy appeared one or two years older and was dressed in different clothes but he still looked miserable as he sat huddled and crying in the corner of the room.

“Hey buddy,” Face said as he sat down next to the child. “What’s wrong?”

The boy jerked his head up and stared in fear before he took a breath and relaxed.

“It’s you,” he said recognizing the older man.

“Yeah. Why are you here?”

“The sisters made me come,” the boy said as he moved a little closer to the blonde conman. “They said it was a special treat but I wanna go home.”

“Should we go find the sisters?”

“No!” the boy shouted as he stood up.

Shocked that he had spoken so loudly, the boy dropped back to the ground and continued in a quieter voice. “If I go out there, they’ll get me.”

“Who? Freddy?” Face asked, dreading the answer.

“No,” the boy said shaking his head. “The bad boys. They said I had to give Freddy a big kiss. I told them that I didn’t want to and they started chasing me. I don’t like Freddy. He scares me.”

“Come on,” Face said fearing what might come next. “They’ll find you here. We got to find someplace else to hide.”

“I found him!” shouted an older boy as he came into the room.

Face pushed the small boy behind him but it was as if the older boy, and the three friends who joined him, couldn’t see him.

“Good work, Joey,” said the black haired boy as he patted the snitch on his shoulder before turning his attention to the small blonde boy.

“Why’d you run baby?” he asked in a taunting voice.

“Leave me alone!” shouted the small boy to the bullies.

“Aww,” said the black haired boy in mock sympathy. “We’re trying to be so nice to him and he’s being so mean to us. Isn’t that too bad, Rob.”

“Yeah, Steve. Here we are trying to make his day special but he doesn’t want to be our friend.”

“You’re not my friends!” shouted the small boy. “Leave me alone.”

“We can’t do that baby,” said Steve as he and the other boys formed a circle around Face and the small boys. “You see Freddy sent us. He wants to give you a big kiss.”

Face tried to move so he could stop this from happening but, again, his limbs refused to move.

“I don’t want to go!”

The small boy jerked away as one of the older boys grabbed him. It was no use, he was too small and they were too many. They took hold of him and despite his struggles; they lifted him off of the ground.

“Hey Steve,” one of the boys said as they started to carry him from the room. “You know what Freddy does with crybabies?”

“No,” responded Steve.

“He eats them all up.” All of the older boys laughed nastily as they walked out into the hallway.

“Put! That! Child! Down!”

The authoritarian voice stopped the older boys in their tracks. They dropped the younger boy who scrambled to his feet and desperately looked around for a safe spot.

“Go to her,” Face urged recognizing the older woman in a nun’s habit. It was Sister Beatrice. She had died five years ago. He always regretted not being able to go to her funeral.

The small boy ran and was engulfed into the nun’s loving arms.

“It’s okay sister,” Steve babbled trying to get himself and his friends out of trouble. “That’s my brother and we were just playing with him.”

“Your brother?” the sister said eyeing them like they were a disgusting bug that she had just found on her plate. “That’s very interesting since he has been my charge for the past year and I was unaware that he had a brother.”

The group of boys looked guilty as they began to inch away from the nun.

“I suggest,” Sister Beatrice said sternly, “that you leave before I call the police.”

“Yes, mam,” they said as they scurried into the darkness like cockroaches.

“Come along, Alvin,” Sister Beatrice said in a kind voice.

“I want to go home,”” Alvin insisted as he pushed his face into her habit.

“But child, it’s your birthday and the pizza is already at the table.”

“It’s not my birthday!”

“Do you remember when your birthday is?” she asked.

“No,” Alvin admitted sadly.

“Then it’s a celebration of the day that we first found you,” she said sweetly, “and you don’t want to disappoint the other children, so you?”

Alvin shook his head no.

“After the pizza, we’ll have Freddy and his friends play you a special birthday song.”

“No!” Alvin said pulling away. “I don’t want to! Freddy’s scary!”

“Oh Alvin,” Sister Beatrice tsked. “Freddy and his friends are just giant toys. After we eat the pizza, I’ll show you.”

“Sister,” Face pleaded as the nun drug the reluctant boy with her, “Please listen to him. You’ve got to get out of here.”

But the nun couldn’t hear him.

Face hung his head, unsure what to do next. He heard the older boys talking in the darkness.

“Hey Stevie, where’s your little brother?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I’ll bet he’d like a kiss from Freddy.”

“Yeah.”

Their laughter still rang in his ears as Face lifted his head.

The scene had changed. He was standing in front of a large table with ten or so children who he recognized from his youth. They were all enjoying the pizza except for his small friend who sat between Sister Beatrice and Sister Abigail.”

“I’m so glad you found him,” Sister Abigail said. “I was getting worried.”

“There were some bullies,” Sister Beatrice explained. “They were giving him a hard time but I sent them on their way.”

The sisters and the children looked up at the commotion which was happening at the front of the room.

“It’s those boys!” Sister Beatrice exclaimed. “It looks like they found someone else to torment. Where are their parents?”

“They shouldn’t be so close to those robots.”

Face looked up and saw the four boys carried a small squirming boy closer and closer to large robotic bear that was mouthing the words the Birthday Song.

“Kiss him! Kiss him!” they chanted as the lofted the terrified boy closer to the bear’s mouth.

The chant was picked up to the other children and some of the adults who laughed at the scene before them.

“I’m getting the manager!” Sister Beatrice said as she got up from her seat.

Then Face heard it. The sound was like a cantaloupe being smashed on the sidewalk then the screaming started.

“Good Lord! No!” Sister Abigail shouted as the scent of blood filled the air.

“Don’t look children! Keep your heads down.”

Without looking, Face knew the blonde boy was lifting his head to stare at the scene.

The four boys’ faces were pale as they gaped at the crumbled body they had dropped to the floor. It was covered in blood squished out of its misshaped head. Freddy Fazbear and his band continued to

sing their happy song as if nothing had happened. Then Freddy with blood dripping down his maw turned his turned his head and winked.

***TAT***TAT***

“No!” Face screamed as he bolted upright in the bed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay, kid?” Hannibal asked.

“Yeah,” Face said in a relieved voice. “Just a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Face vehemently shook his head, talking about it made it seem too real.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

“Sure,” Face said giving the older man a weak smile as he settled back into the bed. “John?”

“Yeah kid.”

“Could you hold me?”

“Anytime kid,” Hannibal said as he opened his arms.

Face tried to close his eyes as he snuggled into his lover’s embrace. He tried to take comfort in the older man’s strength and the steady beat of his heart. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that in the darkness; something was watching him; watching and waiting.

FOUR DAYS UNTI THE PARTY

“Dagnabbit,” BA cursed as he pulled his van into the driveway. He had a lot to do today and he didn’t have time for this nonsense. Final clean up the safe house was Faceman’s job but, somehow, he was the one who got stuck cleaning out the mailbox.

Hannibal was always saying that the military may never find ‘em but the store owners always do.

And he was right. It seemed like no matter how careful they tried to be, they weren’t in an abandoned house over twenty-four hours before they started getting junk mail.

Hannibal said they didn’t need the police or military wondering why junk mail was being sent to an empty house so someone had to pick it up until a false trail was set. Face was supposed to do it until Hannibal called saying he was letting the conman sleep in; which was surprising because Hannibal, usually, didn’t cut his boyfriend any slack when it came to his duties.

BA gnawed his lips as he thought about the last time he had seen his friend. He had to admit that Face had been looking rough; like he hadn’t been getting enough sleep and jumping at shadows. He hoped the nightmares weren’t back.

“How can one guy have so many nightmares,” he wondered.

Sometimes he was glad that Face never talked about his past. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to know the man’s secrets. Thank God, Hannibal and Face had finally connected and the young lieutenant had someone to talk to. They seemed to be good for each other.

“And if that means, every once and a while, you got to pick up the mail because Hannibal’s being too protective,” BA muttered, “so be it.”

“Dang,” BA swore as he opened the mailbox and an advert fluttered to the ground.

“The thing’s stuffed,” he thought. “Must be sales starting.”

He picked one of the papers off of the ground and started to crumble it until the coloring and words caught his eye.

The heading said ‘You’re Invited to a Special Party at Freddy Fazbear’s’. He remembered that name. It was the name of the place that Face ran into; the place they never talked about.

“Don’t tell me they’re reopening that place,” BA mumbled as he threw the paper into the trash bag. He had never been too sure how much he believed about what happened that night. None of it seemed real.

He smoothed out the paper to get a better look at it and grimaced. There was Foxy the Pirate with his eye patch and sharp hooked hand, Bonnie Bunny with his dead eyes and bucked teeth, Chica the obviously female chicken waitress holding onto a plate that held a large cupcake with the googly eyes and Freddy Fazbear with his small bowtie, tiny hat and a smile which seemed wrong.

The place was supposed to be for children but it didn’t look like any place he’d take the kids from the center. Those mascots would give anyone bad dreams. There was just something wrong with them.

“What the…” BA said as he reached down to pick up the papers and saw it was another advert for Fazbear’s.

He started picking up the papers on the ground and still stuffed in the mailbox. They were all the same adverts. The mailbox was stuffed with them; hundreds of them, all the same picture, all with the same words that ended with ‘Your friends are waiting for you’.

“Had to be some kinda mailing glitch,” BA told himself as he shivered in the heat of the morning. He gathered them all up and walked to the van.

He was going to be even later than he planned. He had to get out to the dump and burn this stuff. It was silly but he knew that he’d feel better with all of them gone.

“No reason to tell anyone about this, he thought. “It don’t mean nothing.”

As he drove away, he looked out of the rearview mirror and saw that he hadn’t got all of them. One lone paper wafted in the wind right behind the van. BA couldn’t shake the notion that it was following him.

THREE DAYS UNTI THE PARTY

“This is an outrage,” Murdock mumbled to himself as he banged on the door of his room.

He had already wasted five minutes pushing the call button without satisfaction. He knew why he was being ignored. It was because that snotty Nurse Hatchet Face was on duty and she hated him. Well if she thought ignoring him was going to work, she was sadly mistaken.

“A man’s room in a VA mental health hospital is his castle,” he thought.

It took three more minutes of banging and shouting plus thirty seconds of singing ‘The Chipmunk Song’ before the old biddy finally came to the door.

“Is there any particular reason you are acting like a baboon this evening?” asked Nurse Harriet in an icy voice.

Murdock took a calming breath as he prepared to explain the obvious to the clueless.

“Nurse Hatchet Face…” he started.

“Harriet,” she responded as started to shut his door but he was too quick and stuck his foot in the way. For a moment she looked like she was going to call the guard but instead took a calming breath and waited for him to make the next move.

“Nurse,” he compromised. It seemed to satisfy her and so he continued. “As you know Feng Shui is very important for one to maintain a proper mental balance. Balance in the room equals balance in the mind.”

“And we have explained to you that we do not allow old food in the room even if you do give it a name.”

“His name was Harry. As I explained he was a hamburger with suicidal ideations. He wanted to end it all by sacrificing himself as a midnight snack for Billy.”

“Your non-existing dog.”

“Dr. Richter said…”

Nurse Harriet held up her hand. While she thought it was not helpful to the patients to encourage such hallucinations, the doctor was the doctor.

“I replaced Harry with a non-existing hamburger. If you didn’t see then your dog Billy must have eaten it.”

Murdock could feel his nostrils flaring; he was going to have to ask Face if he couldn’t get the woman transferred to somewhere better suited for her personality like a Russian gulag.

“This thing,” Murdock said as he held out his hand, “is not food or trash and is not supposed to be in my room.”

He had spent the afternoon out on a field trip at the lake. He always enjoyed there and giving Billy a chance to stretch his legs. He enjoyed it even more today because it was the day that the Benevolent Society for Mental Health Awareness was scheduled to visit the hospital.

He had nothing against charity groups but this one was a little too patronizing for his taste. They had a tendency to treat the patients like they were five year olds who were waiting in breathless anticipation for a red lollipop or a balloon.

Face understood what he meant. He had a long childhood dealing with do-gooders who could be awfully insulting when they were trying to be noble.

He was sure that the society didn’t mean any harm but this was his room. No one, particularly strangers, had a right to snoop in his room and leave things without his permission. It was bad enough that the staff wouldn’t let him keep a snack just because it was a little black and fuzzy at the edges.

He hadn’t noticed the thing at first; not until Billy started growling then he couldn’t figure out how he had missed it.

It was an ugly thing, something that was fit for a two bit prize and really run down carnival. He prided himself on seeing the whimsy in everything but this…Not even he could find anything fun about it.

It was a stuffed toy cupcake that was about the size of a baseball. It had a single candle in the center and a set of googly eyes that seemed to follow you as you walked around the room. He couldn’t tell you how but he got the idea that it was sad. And who ever heard of a sad cupcake.

Billy didn’t like it and neither did he. It was like the thing was watching him. He was just going to throw it in the trash can but there was something about it. The closer he got, the more the hairs on his arm began to prickle and the more excited Billy got. He couldn’t bring himself to touch it but he couldn’t stand it looking at him.

So he grabbed a towel and threw it over the toy. He wrapped it up and called for somebody to take it away. Hatchet Face was as good a choice as any to be the trash man.

“So you want me to take your towel?” she asked looking at the bundle in his arm. “Is it dirty?”

“Nooo,” he said with infinite patience. “I want the towel. I want you to take away the thing in the towel.”

He unrolled the cloth so she could see the offending item. Come to think of it, she’d probably like the creepy thing.

“There’s nothing there,” Harriet said with an arched eyebrow, “or is this another one of those nonexistent things that I’m supposed to pretend is really there.”

“Wha…” Murdock felt the blood run from his face. Where was it? He had seen it in his room, wrapped it in the towel, felt the weight in his arm but it was gone; like it had never been there.

“Captain Murdock?” Harriet asked as she gently touched his arm. “Are you alright? You look pale.”

“It was there,” Murdock insisted in a quiet voice. “I swear it was there. Those benevolent people; they put it in my room.”

“The society canceled. They’re coming next week. No one was in your room today.”

“Where did it go?” Murdock whispered afraid that it might be somewhere close, listening to him.

“I don’t know. Would you like me to call Dr. Richter?”

“No,” Murdock said quickly. “I’m okay.” The team had a mission coming up soon and he didn’t need the doctor ordering the staff to keep a closer eye on him.

“Would you like something to help you sleep?”

Murdock shook his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to close his eyes.

“Can we keep the door open?” he asked in a small voice.

“We’ll leave it ajar tonight,” Harriet said with a kind smile. “Try to get some sleep.”

Murdock sighed in relief as he heard the door not shut and lock. If that thing had snuck back in here, he wanted a escape door available. He looked around but didn’t see the eerie toy that he, now, wasn’t sure had ever been there.

As he sat on the bed, he felt the need for some comfort.

“Billy,” he called.

“Billy,” Murdock tried calling louder but only nothingness answered back.

“BILLY!”

TWO DAYS TO THE PARTY

The room had changed. Face still recognized it but it looked like no one had used it for years. It stank of old grease and decay. The sounds of the crowds gone; it was as quiet as death. He remembered this scene though he had hoped to never to see it again.

He quietly made his way over to the corner of the room and knelt down to talk to the gagged boy lying on the floor.

“Don’t panic,” he said in as calm a voice as he could manage. “If you panic, you’re dead.”

The blonde boy with the blue eyes had his wrists and ankles tied tightly together. He looked up at Face with fear filled eyes that beseeched him for help.

Knowing what was happening in the other room, Face tried to will his hands to work but they were like solid lead. The only thing he had to give the boy was his experience.

“There’s a broken bottle to your left,” he told him. “It’ll cut through the rope but you’ve got to hurry. There’s not much time.”

The boy nodded and rolled himself closer to the glass.

“Prop yourself up,” Face instructed, “and press the rope as hard as you can on the glass. You’re going to get cut but don’t stop.”

The boy did as he was told. Sometimes he would look anxiously toward the door, Face knew what he was looking for but chose not to say anything. The boy …both of them were already scared enough.

Face heard the boy gasp as the sharp edges cut into his flesh. The boy pushed past the pain and continued to work on the ropes. The boy was and always would be a survivor.

It took several long minutes of time which they didn’t have but the boy managed to free his wrists. The first thing he reached for was the gag in his mouth.

“Do your legs first,” Face said. Being able to run would do the boy more good than being able to scream. No one would help him in here.

The boy nodded and started working on his legs. Soon he was free and on his feet. He undid the gag and looked at Face.

“You’ve got to get out of here,” Face said stressing his words as he looked anxiously to the door, “through that door and to the left. There’s an exit there.”

“There was another boy,” the blonde boy whispered. “Freddy took him.”

“That boy’s dead.”

Tears began to well in the boy’s eye, he knew it was true but hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t wanted to believe that he was supposed to be next. Face looked into the hallway and saw the way was clear.

“You have to leave now. He’s almost done and when he is, he’s going to come for you.”

Face and the boy walked into the hallway which was suddenly full of sounds; a scratchy sound of an old radio and a child sobbing.

Face winced; the other boy was still alive. Had he forgot that or was it different this time?

The boy looked up to Face and took a step toward the sound. Face knew that the boy wanted to help but he knew there was nothing that one small boy could do against what was happening in that room. He shook his head and pointed to the exit.

A short sharp cry cut through the air followed by gurgling. It was the first time that the boy heard the sound but Face had already heard the sound of death more times than he could count.

The boy ran away from the sound; accepting that there was nothing that he could do; only wanting to save himself. Though the decision was right, Face knew that the guilt would follow the boy for the rest of his life.

Like he would, later in Nam, the boy walked quickly and silently through the darkness. They could see the exit door, broken and ajar. The boy’s hand had barely touched it when someone or something on the other side pulled it open. The boy stared like a caught animal at the sharp ray of light which shone in his eyes.

“What the fuck?” said rough voice of a dark haired man. “Who the hell are you?”

Overwhelmed and unsure, the boy gawked in response. He remained silent as the man grabbed him and ran his hands across his body. Not finding anything the man pushed him away.

“You’re too young for this game, kid,” the man said with a mean grin. “Anything in here is mine. Got it? Now get the fuck out of here.”

Grateful to be escaping, the boy scrambled to his feet and prepared to run but the rough man grabbed him again.

The man seemed to be pleased at the fear in the child’s eyes. He pulled a knife and held it to the boy’s face. It nicked the cheek and caused a small trickle of blood to flow from the cut.

“You weren’t here, understand?” the man said. “If you tell anybody about me; I’ll find you and kill you.”

He let the boy go; laughing as he watched the child run as if the devil, himself, was after him.

Face too watched the boy run; happy that, at least for tonight, the boy was safe.

Face turned to the rough man knowing what the man was going to do. He wanted to stop him, to shout and scream for his to run from this place, but he could no longer speak. It was as if his tongue had been ripped from his body leaving him mute.

The man put his knife back into his pocket. Face turned away as the man walked cockily walked into the abandoned restaurant. Face didn’t want to watch him. He didn’t want to see what would happen next.

Instead he focused on the boy running as fast as his legs could carry him. Face prayed that the boy would keep running but the boy stopped and looked back.

Face heard the scream. He knew it was the voice of the rough man; the one who had discovered the secrets of this place, the one who would live but never tell anyone what he found, the one who would never speak again.

The scream was followed by another sound; another voice, a voice filled with anger and hate

“He’s gone!” It screeched. “Find him! Bring him back!”

The boy heard the voice. Face knew it would haunt the boy’s dreams for many nights. Afraid that the voice would find him would be the reason that he never tell anyone about what had happened at this place.

The boy ran. Face wanted to run too but something wouldn’t let him. He heard the sound of feet, feet of something heavy, of someone or someones coming toward him. Controlled by powers beyond him, he turned his head and looked.

Their shadows kept getting larger as they came closer to where he stood; wanting to take him back to the death that he had escaped so many years ago.

But it wasn’t the shadows of anything human; it was the shapes of animals that walked like men. As the turned the corner, he opened his mouth and…

***TAT***TAT***

“No!” Face shouted as he jerked up and fell out of his car seat.

He heard the squealing tires as BA swerved then pulled the van over to the side. Face blushed as three sets of worried eyes looked down on him.

“Are you okay, Facie? Murdock asked helping him back into his seat.

“I’m fine,” Face said laughing nervously. “Luckily only my pride was dented.”

“Sounds like that was a pretty bad dream,” BA said.

“It was.”

“What was it about?”

“I…I don’t remember,” Face lied.

“You been looking a little peeked,” BA said with a concerned tone.

“You know,” Hannibal said carefully, “If you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to take this job. We could put it off for a couple of days.”

“Who says I’m not feeling well?”

Hannibal knew; even if he didn’t share the man’s bed, he would have known. It was obvious by the dark circles under the kid’s eyes. Something was bothering him, something he wasn’t talking about.

And it wasn’t just Face.

There was an uneasiness that hung in the air. Something he suspected all of them felt. There was a scent in the air of something dangerous out there. Something watching them, something they weren’t talking about lest it draw the attention of the beast.

“Are you sure?” Hannibal asked.

Even though he wanted nothing more than for BA to turn the van around and go home, Face refused to act weak in front of the others.

“I’m sure.”

Hannibal nodded his head and BA started the van. As they continued on their way through the darkness, no one spoke a word.

And in the darkness of the other side, something watched.

ONE DAY TILL THE PARTY

Shawn Cunningham took a large swig of rotgut alcohol trying to get drunk as he had tried so many nights in the past.

It wouldn’t work tonight like it hadn’t worked any of the other nights. How can you get drunk when you knew you were going to die and you knew you were going to go to hell.

“It’s funny,” as another gulp burned its way down his throat. “Some people make a deal with the devil and others have the deal thrust upon them.”

He was definitely in the latter group and he had never seen it coming.

It had been years and years ago. He had never even heard of Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria. The only thing he saw was an abandoned building where he could indulge himself in peace and privacy.

It had been perfect. It had thick walls and rooms within rooms. No one would be able to hear anything. No one would be able to see anything. And there had been an extra plus; a set of animal masks and costumes. They were a perfect way to help lure a child out of the park to some place quiet where he whisk them away.

The first time had been magical. It was like the little boy couldn’t believe that the big friendly walking teddy bear could hurt anyone. But the boy had been so wrong.

He had done it in the party room. He remembered the tears on the child’s cheeks. The boy knew what Freddy Fazbear was. He had cried out for the animal band to help him. He had even called Freddy by name to save him.

But, of course, they did nothing. They weren’t alive. Not then.

Cunningham remembered the thrill he felt as he raped the child then strangled the life out of him; all under the watchful eyes of the animatronic band. It had been a whim to stuff the boy’s body into the Freddy Fazbear robot. It gave him pleasure to think that his first kill would watch the others that would die here from beyond the grave; that one dying child would call for help to a child that was already dead.

It had all gone so well; until the last night…the last child…the fifth child.

He had thought it was his lucky night; he was carrying one child who had been silenced with a little chloroform and found another one, probably a runaway, sleeping near the dumpster by the pizzeria.

Two kills in one night; one for the fox and one for the golden bear.

Perfect.

He tied the sleeping boy up and thrown him into the side party room. He took the first child into the main party room and started his little ritual. It had been wonderful until it wasn’t.

Cunningham’s hand tightened around the bottle until he felt it start to bend.

He had seen the giant box on the stage, decorated like a jack-in-the box, before. He had always thought it was a solid painted box until it finally opened.

He had just finished stuffing the child into the pirate fox. He was going to get the blonde boy when that…nightmare jumped out of the box; a giant puppet, a marionette, with a white painted face and long strong fingers.

Cunningham remembered how it had screamed.

Gone, it screamed. Get him back, it had screamed. And then…and then those things, the things that held all his sin, they moved. They stood up and moved towards him.

The bottle finally broke in Cunningham’s hand. He paid no attention to the glass and the blood which mixed with the alcohol as it flowed to the floor.

He remembered the fear; like his heart had stopped. He had been sure they were going to kill him. After all, it was what he had done to them and a lot worse. But they hadn’t. They lurched off into the darkness looking for something or someone.

When his heart started beating again, he tried to escape. But that thing wouldn’t let him. It hadn’t even been looking at him. It just held out one of its long arms then its fingers shot out like steel snakes from a

cannon, fingers which were more like knives that pierced through the wall all around him, holding him in place.

Cunningham remembered that moment with a laugh that was more like a sob. It was the first time that he had peed his pants since he had been a baby.

He hadn’t begged or pleaded with it, he was too scared to do anything that would bring that thing’s attention back to him.

For long minutes they stood there until Freddy and his friends returned carrying not a child but a struggling man in their steel arms. They brought the man to the marionette. It demanded to know where the other boy was. But the man, like him was too scared to talk. He didn’t say anything and the puppet with its long skinny sharp fingers ripped out the man’s tongue and threw it on the floor.

Cunningham remembered that was the moment when he had collapsed. His last vision was those things smiling at him like they wanted to rip him to pieces and the puppet’s voice shrieking for the boy.

Back in the present, Cunningham licked the blood which still oozed from his hand. He had been sure that he was never going to wake up or that when he woke up he would be in hell. But he hadn’t, he had woke up in his own room sure that it had been a dream, a nightmare.

Until he read the paper about the pedophile killer that had been found in the abandoned pizzeria, the bodies of four dead children stuffed in the animatronics.

He knew that it hadn’t been a dream and they had left him alive to find a boy that he couldn’t even remember what he looked like.

He thought, hoped, that he would be safe. He planned to change his life, never do those things again and to never ever go back where those things could get him. But Freddy and his friends weren’t done with him.

No. They haunted his nighttime and his daytime life. He might not see them for hours or days but they were always there.

Sometimes he would see them out of the corner of his eyes and sometimes they would jump out at him with a look that told them that they longed for the chance to rip him to pieces. And then there were the dreams, the dreams of the things they were doing in that place, to the people that they caught and the dreams of what they would do to him if he failed them.

Then one night, the dreams changed. They weren’t of that place. They were of the men that he saw on the television; soldier of fortunes, professional do gooders, one with blonde hair and blue eyes that he remembered.

Every time he dreamt of the blonde man, every time he saw his picture; he could hear that voice from Hell telling him that the blonde was the one and he had to be brought back; even though the blonde’s

friends were men with guns, men who had killed, men that would surely kill him if he harmed the blonde.

Things were coming to a head and whatever happened he knew he was going to die and when he died he would go into another hell, the real hell.

Despite the liquor, the glass and the blood; Cunningham put his head on the table and started to cry. He wondered if that hell would be any worse than this one.

He heard the phone ring. He wanted to ignore, no one living called him anymore. But he knew it wouldn’t stop so he got up and answered it.

“Hello,” he said in a shaky voice.

TIME FOR THE PARTY!